


Satisfaction Guaranteed

by imonlyjoking



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Sexual Frustration, Shameless Smut, Some BDSM, a little plot a lot of porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5269871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imonlyjoking/pseuds/imonlyjoking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sexual frustration can drive you nuts. After a lengthy and frustrating dryspell, Rhys just can't find the satisfaction he's been craving for.</p><p>Apparently he's not the only one. </p><p> </p><p>I'm having some major writer's block, so I made this random little smutty fic to help cure me. :) Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so pumped to continue my other story, but I'm having some major writer's block! So I thought; hey, why not! I'll just write some random fic full of smutty goodness.
> 
> A sexually frustrated Rhys and Jack? I couldn't resist!
> 
> Enjoy!

Three more thrusts. That's all Rhys needed. He was so close, _finally._ All he needed was a few more well timed thrusts from the sweaty hulking figure draped over him and he'd be able to orgasm, or one he could salvage from this heavily disappointing fuck.

“ _Ungh_ , oh baby, I'm coming.”

 _'Of course you would. Bastard.'_ Frustration bubbled up over what little arousal Rhys had left. He tried to shift but couldn't so much as edge an inch between the desk behind him and the man's body above him. Comfort was easily another reason for his deflating libido; Rhys had a thing about masochism, where comfort could easily be thrown out the window if the _dis_ comfort was pleasurable or erotic, whether it be thrown around, tied up, maybe a little humiliation sure, but crushed painfully against a desk as a heavy man panted in your face? Yeah, not what he had in mind for a good time.

His thoughts were interrupted by a strangled moan coming from the man on top of him, body stilling as he came inside Rhys. Big hands gripped his smaller shoulders, dark hair sleek with sweat stuck to the man's forehead that rested in the crook of Rhys' neck and he could feel the hot breath on his collarbone when he let out a satisfied sigh.

At least _one_ of them was satisfied. Honestly, Rhys could kick himself for indulging in yet another spur of the moment rut. He'd woken up this morning with an unshakable funk that followed him the entire day. He had to get rid of it, had to take care of the growing itch he couldn't scratch himself. His hands weren't enough. The thought of toys were considered, but he'd dismissed it immediately. It wouldn't be good enough, he wanted the real thing, not overpriced silicone or vibrating plastic. He was _way_ past that stage of need.

The simple fact was that Rhys hadn't gotten a good lay in months and it was finally taking it's told on him, had overruled his better judgment and persuaded him to flirt back with the douchebag he'd bumped into in the Hub earlier that day.

Which led him here, somewhere in the cybernetics department, sprawled half naked over some faceless nobody's desk while the same douchebag from earlier had pumped desperately into him, grunting in his hear, panting in his face, sweating all over him. And he was frustrated, _so fucking_ frustrated. No orgasm, no relief. Nothing.

Nothing but that same restless itchy feeling he'd had for weeks now.

Damn his impatience, but in his defense the guy he picked up looked like he had potential. Broad shoulders, nice suit, charming smile, decent hair. He'd never met this guy before now, another no-name code monkey from some department Rhys didn't care to know, all he was concerned about was if the man was as good as Rhys hoped.

So Rhys indulged in his curiosity, and Rhys was heavily disappointed.

Story of his life.

Finally, after so many awkward minutes, the man above him slid out of Rhys and crawled off of him to stand on shaky knees, running a hand through his sweaty sex hair and heaved another sigh. “Wow. That was... _great_.”

Rhys immediately sat up and shuffled off the desk, reaching for as many articles of his clothing as possible, too agitated to even respond to the other male. Silently he adjusted his clothes, zipping his pants, buttoning his undershirt and next adorning his vest. He ignored the curious eyes watching him as he dressed.

“So...yeah. Do you, like, want to do this again sometime?”

Rhys couldn't help himself at the man's stuttered question, snorting incredulously as he slipped his feet into his leather boots. He didn't meet his eyes and kept his attention on smoothing out the wrinkles in his suit jacket. He wasn't usually one to be very harsh to the other person after these quick flings, but he'd had enough. So many times he was left unsatisfied and pent up, often being the one still waiting optimistically thinking he would be given a courtesy blowjob, handjob...shit, _something_!

“How about we don't.” Rhys straightened his tie and still didn't look at the man as he started for the door. He didn't have to see the man to know he was shocked. Rhys would have smirked at the thought if he wasn't so aggravated.

“Uh, okay? So that's it?”

Jeez, this guy. Rhys stopped at the door and turned to finally watch as the bigger man just stood there, completely naked and making a face somewhere between skeptical and aggravated.

“Yep. I'm gonna go, and uh, yeah, thanks for...ya know, whatever that was.” And with that, Rhys promptly shut the door and headed down the hallway, as if the last fifteen minutes of his life didn't even happen. God, he sounded like a certain someone he worked for with that last statement, but right now he just needed to cool down, head to the nearest bathroom and splash cold water on his face.

He decided to grab a quick cup of coffee after, knowing well he couldn't go back to work and face _him_ in such a state, too irritated and hazy minded from a ruined sex-high to put up with any antagonizing or rude comments about his salty attitude. One doesn't simply tell your boss _“Sorry, sir! Been going through a dryspell recently and haven't had a good fuck in months!”_

Yeah, definitely didn't sound right in his head.

And at any rate, it wasn't like something _he_ could understand anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

Safety words, in Jack's opinion, was a courtesy he provided when the sex got too...well, got a little too carried away. When the passion's thick and the adrenaline is streaming through his veins he had a tendency to forget his strength at times, too many occurrences that resulted in certain partners being strangled until they passed out on him, which as hilarious as that was, left Jack with a serious pair of blue balls.

So to save him the hassle of an incapacitated sex partner, and his balls, it became his one rule in the sack, in the event of emergencies of course.

Seven times in a thirty minute timespan was ri-god damn-diculous.

Jack had kept his stare directly at the large breasts beneath him, watching them bounce with each harsh thrusts of his hips. Those delicious mounds, they were the only reason why he was still interested in this failing afternoon quickie.

Because, no joke, this chick just laid there. She spazzed when he wrapped his hand around her throat, had not even applied pressure before she shrieked the safety word. So he switched tactics and instead held her hands high above her head, but as soon as he did that she yelped and complained his grip was crushing her wrists, hissing out yet another safety word. Dainty little thing, but he could still manage.

But it wasn't until after the third, the fourth, and fifth time, Jack was quickly losing his temper. And when she whined for the _seventh_ freakin time, he'd had just about enough of this shit.

By the way she had strolled into his office to drop off mail or packages or whatever it was, didn't matter, in a skirt too short for company dress code, legs for days, hair in a messy business bun, he'd nearly lost his composure then and had taken no time in getting that sweet thing sprawled on top of his desk. Hell yeah, it was good to be the King sometimes.

It'd been some time, and quite a few unfulfilled sex-cipades along the way, since he was able to bust a nut worth taking the edge off completely.

Unfortunately for Jack, he'd have to wait a little longer.

Because this woman supposedly got off on being completely boneless, about as motionless as a corpse. And Handsome Jack was no necrophiliac, dammit. He liked it when they fought him back a little, let him throw em around and expect them to bounce back. He remembers fondly when Nisha busted his cheek with a skull rattling punch when he tried to put a ball gag in her mouth. It hurt like a bitch, but he could admit it was freakin hot.

“S-Sir...” he blinked from her bouncing breasts to her flushed face. He sighed, leaning down to bring his lips to the shell of her ear.

“Sweetheart,” he cooed, almost hissed when he felt a spike of agitation, “what did we say about names?”

“B-but sir –ah!” Jack cut her off with a particularly strong thrust, pulling his dick all the way out just to shove it back into her pussy, the legs thrown over his shoulders trembled and hooked at the ankles, tugging at his neck uncomfortably.

“ _Daddy_ , sweetheart. It's Daddy. And what do you want from Daddy, babe?”

The woman's heart shaped face flushed scarlet, eyes drawn tight, her brown hair splayed out all around her. Between exasperated whimpers she finally managed a moaned whine from her painted lips.

“P...Pretzels.”

Jack froze. She _did not_ just say what he thought she said.

She straight up just said the safety word, for the _eight_ time.

Jack growled out a sigh and raised himself up to shoot her an impatient glare. “For _what?”_ He swore, this time it better be for a damn good reason.

“Y-You're too rough….”

A few quiet moments passed by, a few blinks, a blank stare. Jack's shoulders slumped forward and he hummed. Look at that, he wasn't hard anymore.

“Aaaand I'm done.” In one quick motion he pulled his dick out, eliciting a curious whimper from the woman. He tucked himself back into his pants and took a few steps back until the backs of knees caught against his chair sending him falling into the seat.

“Well...that was _fun._ ” The sarcasm was thick in his voice. He reached up to massage his temples with his thumb and index finger, keeping his eyes closed to quell his boiling anger as he continued, “Pumpkin, you sure do know how to turn a man's dick from rock hard to flaccid in seconds. _Quite_ the skill you got there.”

For a moment the woman didn't say anything, and he could hear her shuffle around on top of his desk, but other than that made no further attempt to get up. Well, that simply wouldn't do.

“Alright, show's over. C'mon, Dead Fish, I got a tight schedule to keep. So...ya know.”

“E-Excuse me?” Jack could hear it in her tone, she was angry, insulted, but too scared to really show it. To be fair, he _tried_ to be patient, _tried_ to make it easier on her for the sake of his much needed orgasm. But he was past the point of being nice now.

Jack's eyes shot open to see that she was still there, legs curled underneath herself with one arm covering her nipples, deciding _now_ to be self conscious. His lip curled in disgust.

“Did I stutter? I said I'm done. Now get your shit and get out before your naked ass is floating out in space.”

At that she flew off his desk, grabbing as many of her clothes scattered about the room as she could, leaving in a flurry of brown hair and tears. He watched her go with indifferent eyes, too frustrated to give a damn. He'd hoped this time would be different, maybe he'd finally found someone that could show him a damn good time. But one after another, there was always something about them that always ended up pissing him off.

Men, women, they all sucked. And not in the good way. Jack clenched his fist and slammed it into the arm of his chair causing it to shake. All he wanted was to fuck someone the way he wanted to, for them to like it. Was that so much to ask? He was _Handsome Jack_ for God's sake! Hero of Pandora, King of Hyperion, and he couldn't get one good lay?

It was fucking absurd.

The sound of an object being placed on his desk brought him out of his thoughts. He peaked one tired blue eye through the gaps in his fingers, watching as a cybernetic hand nudged a Styrofoam coffee cup across the surface of his desk toward him.

Jack glanced up without removing the scowl from his face.

“Black, four packets of sugar. They were making a fresh batch when I got there. Enjoy.” The kid had a knack for showing up at the right time, it was almost bizarre.

“Sometimes I think you can read minds, cupcake. Don't tell me you got some weird psychic shit you're not telling me about?” He pulled his hand away from his face and reached for the cup of steaming goodness.

Rhys shrugged, taking a sip from his own cup. “One would have to in order to be your Personal Adviser.”

Jack laughed, strained. It didn't go unnoticed. “Smartass.”

The younger man smirked behind his cup, hoping Jack wouldn't see. In an odd way, their banter seemed to quell a little of the bad mood Rhys was in. He never questioned it, though. He moved around Jack's desk and reached over to turn on his ECHOscreen, bringing up the holographic screen to show multiple pages popped up along the face, calendars, emails, audit reports, pulling up a few pages to download into his own ECHOsystem.

“You look rough,” he said, not taking his eyes from the screen as he worked, “was the chicken you ordered for lunch not good?”

“You could say that,” Jack groaned out another laugh, leaning over his desk and resting his chin on his hand, and Rhys couldn't quite understand what the underlying message behind Jack's smirk meant.

The pages had finished downloading, and just as Rhys was about to pull away when he noticed something in the corner of his eye, caught on the handle of one of the desk's drawers. He reached down and plucked the item of interest from the drawer, taking a few steps back and lifting it up for inspection.

Blue laced panties?

Rhys quietly eyed the panties, then glanced to Jack who had by now realized Rhys' discovery, frowning at the small piece of clothing hanging in front of him

“Bad chicken, huh?"

“Heh, yeah. Big tittied young thing from Human Resources. I find the irony in that _hilarious,_ by the way.”

“I don't want to know.” Rhys deadpanned. He tossed the underwear on Jack's desk and turned on his heels, suddenly very irritated. But he was too late in masking his abrupt mood swing, could feel Jack's inquisitive stare burning holes into his back.

Rhys tried to throw him off. “Don't forget you have a meeting with the Elemental Advancement Director at two–”

“Well you're _quite_ the chipper one today. What's up with you?”

It was one of those moments where Rhys wanted to see what Jack would do if he was completely honest with one of his questions, and considered turning around at that moment to grin and say something like _Oh, don't mind me. Just haven't had a good lay in a while, got topped by a premature ejaculating douchebag, and you're basically showing off how often you get some. Just a little tired, that's all._

Instead, Rhys went with the most understandable, short phrased answer he could come up with.

“Had bad chicken at lunch today.”


	2. My Latte Is Mocking Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get weird, and spicy, and so the plot begins >:3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm sorry I've neglected this story! It's just kinda something I do on the side while I write my other fic WLITW. So while I'm pulling my hair out with that story, I use this one to expel any random ideas I have on the side :) 
> 
> For the record, I don't know where this entire chapter came from. I improvised the entire thing. A lot of dialogue, I apologize. I hope you all enjoy :)

_The blue hue of Elpis painted the dark walls of the bedroom, it’s ethereal rays the only light pouring in from the massive window consuming the entire right wall. Within its light exposed the constriction of taught, lean muscles under glowing ivory skin. Red satin ties wound around thin wrists restraining them to the iron grape leaf headboard of a massive bed. From bound wrists came long arms that twisted, shoulder blades protruding, back arched in sheer ecstasy, hips raised and ass high in the air, a large strong hand holding them in place._

_Another **crack!** of thunder against the soft flesh, the sting of lightening crawling up the lithe body to rip a broken, exasperated moan from plump lips._

_“Gah..! Oh…sh-shit…” Rhys mewled with pleasure, head snapping back against the force of the spank. His body trembled, hips rocketing back against the smack to welcome more of the long girthy cock sliding into him, filling him up, stretching him out so deliciously._

_The other man, whoever he was, swirled his hips in circular motions, cock grinding against Rhys’ inner walls and forcing more whimpers and pleas from his trembling lips. His arms jerked instinctively, but caught at the wrist as the fabric burned the skin of his flesh wrist, the robotic one unfazed but caught nonetheless. Fingers gripped the decorative bars of the headboard like a lifeline._

_“More…p-please…ah, I n-need…please.”_

_“What was that?” The voice taunted behind him, a mocking tone so familiar, but owner still unclear to Rhys’ fogged mind._

_“Y-Yes,” he gulped in another moan when those strong hips jutted forward once, a harsh buck, but it wasn’t what Rhys wanted. No, he wanted this man to fuck him brutally, to pull all the way out and slam right back in…and he knew he could, and he knew the man **knew** that Rhys wanted it, the bastard. “Just…God, please, just give it to me.”_

_“Hm? Give you what?”_

_The want; a brutal, insatiable need for more pleasure. It was maddening. If he didn’t get more of it soon, it would drive him insane._

_Before he knew it an agitated whine slipped through his clenched teeth, mingling with broken pants of air. He squirmed against the ties holding him to the bed, against the large hand on the flat of his back keeping him immobile where he lay, another hand holding his hips captive. It was torture…_

_…and he loved it._

_“Mmm…” came the rumble of the stranger above him, “I like it when my kitten’s feisty.”_

_“You’re…” Rhys gasped when he felt fingers clench painfully into his skin. There will be a bruise there, that’s for certain. “…so unfair….”_

_The chuckle he received in turn consumed the room with its baritone, danced upon the young man’s skin leaving gooseflesh in its aftermath._

_“Talk about unfair?” In emphasis of the last word he felt the heat on his ass leave, the other man’s cock sliding all the way out before ramming back in with a force so wonderfully brutal Rhys couldn’t help but howl into the air, his hold on the headboard so tight he thought his metal fingers would bend the bars._

_The voice above him was closer now, almost in his ear as it growled, “take a good look at yourself, baby doll. Unfair is keeping this tight little ass from me for so long…_

_“But not anymore.”_

_And all at once the man began to all but plow into him, balls slapping against his ass, ramming his cock in, and out, and in, and out, and…!_

_“Oh! F-Fuck!!” Rhys screamed. Like a burst of sudden and abrupt activity, the massive hand on his back lifted to wrap around his neck and squeezed, other hand unfolding from his bruised hip to reach around and envelope around his swollen, leaking cock bobbing along with the thrusts, once forgotten but now an entirely new addition to the overwhelming pleasure as that hot calloused hand stroked him vigorously._

_The headboard shook with a gusto, knocking against the wall loudly nearly drowning out the sharp cries from the young auburn haired man. He could feel the man blanket himself atop of him, hot sweaty muscled flesh, a feather light brush of chest hair tickled the equally sweaty but smooth skin of his back. He removed the hand from Rhys neck to grip the bed just beside the smaller man’s face, propping himself up to hover above his lover._

_“Scream my name, kitten. C’mon, scream for daddy.”_

_“Ahn! Ah! D…ah…D-Daddy…”_

_Another chuckle, this time low and rough. “No, no, kitten. Scream my **name.”**_

“J-Jack!”

In one harsh convulsion of his body, Rhys awoke abruptly and bounced back against the springs of his bed, reaching one shaky arm to clench fingers into the fabric of his night shirt, as if to keep his heart from jumping out of his chest. Eyes now wide and alert, he gazed around the blackness of his bedroom, watching the absolute stillness of the night around him, the silence of the room broken by his harsh breathing.

“Wh-what the…what the hell?” Rhys panted, running his other hand through his hair only to pull back and observe his palm. So much sweat. It was so hot in his bedroom. He kicked the blankets off of him hastily, letting the cool air of the room lick at his legs and seep through his sweat ridden shirt and boxers. _God,_ he was drenched.

But upon a closer look and simultaneously feeling the coiled sensation, he growled when he noticed the tent of his boxers, his cock swollen and painfully hard.

 _Another_ wet dream. Dammit, this was the third night in a row that he’d woken up like this, just before his incredibly realistic erotic dream could give him the orgasm he’d been prying after for so long, only to wake him up minutes before, leaving him to either take care of himself with an impatient hand or suffer blue balls until his alarm went off. He knew well he was going through a period of extreme sexual un-satisfaction whether from a bad lay or one hell of a dry spell, he couldn’t tell. Maybe he was just being a picky little shit. Whatever the case, he’d cursed himself with sleepless nights and dreams too antagonizing to his predicament.

But this one…this new dream was a little different.

The stranger in his dreams, the mystery man that just knew how to fuck Rhys the way he wanted; tying him up, dominating him, fucking him into the bed until there was no doubt he wouldn’t be able to walk away from it properly…well, this nameless, faceless fabrication of Rhys’ fantasies now had an identity…

…as his sadistic, megalomaniac, dictating, self-absorbed, pompous-ass boss.

“Ah shit.” Rhys groaned just thinking about it. He threw an arm over his eyes and tried to reason with himself.

He had no control over his dreams, and he was no lucid dreamer. He saw Handsome Jack almost every day, so there should be no surprise that he would pop in on one of his dreams every now and then. And he _just so happened_ to be going through a sexual drought with recent attempts to quench the thirst resulting in disappointing outcomes. That being the case the stress of everyday life on Helios was a tad more unmanageable, causing his _very_ detailed and _very_ erotic dreams.

That or maybe it was the ice cream before bed.

“Ugh!” Rhys growled and swung his metal fist into the mattress. He was overanalyzing this. _One_ incredibly hot dream about his boss fucking him into oblivion was no big deal. It’s fine, just a dream. Happens to the best. It wasn’t like that’s how he actually thought of Jack in that kind of way.

Since he was a teenager he idolized the man, from posters to action figures and everything in between (busts, pez-dispensers, cordless telephone, cardboard cutout, that one very used and well-worn t-shirt, _socks_ ) Handsome Jack was the epitome of heroism and power, a man that millions could look up to.

But _sex?_ Well, there were _those_ people out there. And sure, he’d blushed a few times at Jack’s streak of perversion and flirtation. Who wouldn’t? But that’s where the figurative line was always drawn. Nothing more came from it, and Rhys never instigated the thought any further. He never considered himself on the older man’s wavelength to spur that scenario, for Jack to ever see Rhys through a different looking glass other than a loyal subordinate, not anyone important, or _easy_ enough, to be intimate with.

That in mind, he still couldn’t understand why his dick still twitched and throbbed at the sheer memory of his dream. Those hands; large, calloused, _powerful_ , were holding him down as his cock; large and _powerful_ , pumped into him mercilessly. That teasing voice; sultry and rough and…

“UGH!!” Rhys let out a disgusted roar, grabbed his pillow from behind his head and slammed it down on his face.

This was going to be a long night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Is it just me, or does this year’s interns seem a bit less…browbeaten? Am I using that word right?” Vaughn peered over his glasses skeptically, switching from the group of young rambunctious Hyperions running around the Hub, then to Yvette seated quietly next to him. His cheap plastic cup of coffee hovered just below his lips, having spent a few seconds there in waiting as Vaughn searched for the right word.

“Mm…I don’t think so, or it may be the context that you’re using is wrong. I would say they’re more…intrepid.” Yvette replied absentmindedly, taking her sharp eyes from her coffee-stirring for only a second to watch the group of interns run spastically around the Hub, then back to her coffee. “Annoying is another good word for it.”

“Got that right.” Vaughn snorted. “Who’s in charge of training this year? Is it Ivan? Or Williamson?”

“I bet it's Pollard. Who else would teach a bunch of newbies the FingerGun Showdown on their first day?”

That comment earned a chuckle from the accountant. “Hah, yeah. You’re right. Ah, man. I remember my first day as an intern. I broke the copy machine and almost wet myself! Remember that, Rhys? You were there. Remember when that copy machine caught fire?”

The entire time the two friends were chatting away idly, Rhys remained where he was on the opposite side of the table, completely silent, staring at his untouched latte, eyes glazed over as if in a deep trance.

His latte was mocking him.

_“take a good look at yourself, baby doll. Unfair is keeping this tight little ass from me for so long…. But not anymore.”_

_Shut up._

_“Scream my name, kitten. C’mon, scream for daddy.”_

_Shut up!_

_“Mmm…, I like it when my kitten’s feisty.”_

_Oh my God. Shut. Up._

“Rhys? Bro?”

_You dreamed about fucking your boss._

“SHUT UP!” Rhys finally shouted, seconds away from smacking his antagonistic coffee off the table.

There must have been something going on around him while he was fighting with himself and his coffee, because when he finally snapped out of his musings and stared around his surroundings, welcomed by the inquisitive high arch of Yvette’s brow and a rather hurtful and shocked expression on Vaughn’s face.

“Bro?”

“I…” Rhys sputtered, before letting out a sigh, “sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean that at you, I was…um.” He pointed shyly at his own head. “telling _this_ to shut up.”

“You were telling yourself to shut up?” Vaughn asked cautiously. “But you haven’t said anything.”

“I think he means his ECHO. You _did_ mean your ECHO, right?” Yvette, the saving grace of embarrassing situations, added in hopefully.

“Uh…” Rhys blinked, before nodding his head hastily, “yeah! Yeah, just got a lot of messages all of a sudden. Hehe. Sorry, Vaughn. What were you saying?”

“Nah, it’s not important.” Vaughn waved it off, taking another sip of his coffee and setting back down. He eyed his best friend carefully. “You look tired, Bro. Have you been sleeping okay?”

 _Hardly._ “Mm…” Rhys shrugged tiredly, now thinking about the few hours of rest he'd had in the past three days. “Workload’s been rough. Pulling in a lot of overtime.” _Overtime as in intense sexual fantasy dreams, lastnite’s episode concerning our CEO…errgh, shut up!_

Vaughn nodded in silent understanding, thankfully not bringing up the matter further. Sweet, understanding Vaughn. Yvette on the other hand, scandalous and nosy, slapped a neatly manicured hand on the table with a sharp _smack_ , startling both men enough to give her incredulous stares.

“What’s up with you?” Rhys asked.

Yvette’s eyes narrowed, leaning over the table to speak in a hushed tone, words meant for only the two sets of ears around her. “So it _is_ true.”

“What is?”

Painted eyes widened, her turn to be incredulous. “Seriously? Don’t play dumb, Rhys. You out of everyone should know.”

Rhys and Vaughn exchanged curious glances. What was she talking about? He shifted in his seat nervously, not knowing if Yvette knew something he didn’t, or she knew something he knew and didn’t want to admit…

“You know.” Yvette quickly eyed her surroundings suspiciously, checking for any eavesdropping ears, before whispering, “ _about Handsome Jack?_ ”

 _Oh God…._ How did she know?? Nothing got passed Yvette. The woman had eyes and ears _all_ over Helios, could tell you everything about everyone, and that was saying something considering Helios had a population larger than most major cities on Pandora. There was no questioning that if one were to ever get on this woman’s bad side, she could blackmail the shit out of you. It was impossible for someone to know someone else’s dreams…but Yvette was _fucking_ terrifying when she wanted to be, so if she did find out a way to break through that privacy barrier, and defy laws of nature, it wouldn’t be that much of a shock.

_If she calls you out, deny EVERYTHING. Call her crazy, tell her she’s gross and walk away._

“Ahem,” Rhys cleared his throat and tried to approach the inevitable with a professional attitude, “wh-what are you talking about?”

Yvette merely raised her brows, giving Rhys an appalled expression. “Jeezus, Rhys. You’re his _Personal Advisor_ and even you haven’t noticed? Not even a little? It’s all over Helios!”

“What is?” Rhys spazzed his hands in emphasis. Okay, maybe they weren’t thinking the same thing.

“Wow, Rhys. Way to be observant.” Yvette shook her head and clicked her tongue. It was just like her to pause for dramatic effect; taking her sweet time to answer as she lifted her coffee up to her painted lips and sipped purposefully loud enough for them to hear, lowering her cup slowly and patting her fingers against her lips in a false act of daintiness and etiquette. Finally, with a suspicious look to both Vaughn and Rhys, she cleared her throat.

“Handsome Jack is going through a midlife crisis.”

“Oh, please.” Rhys rolled his eyes. “Trust me, he may seem like he is, but that’s, like, how he is _all the time.”_

“Nope,” Yvette crossed her hands to her chest. “This time it’s for real. A few board members were talking about it the other day. Apparently he cancelled an important meeting on Eridian exporting with the President of Eden 5 to party on his Rave Shuttle.”

Rave shuttle? Rhys blinked, confused by that statement. Jack didn’t have a rave shuttle, did he?

“He does that all the time,” Rhys defended, “he gets in these rave moods and there’s no stopping him.”

“Mm-hmm.” Yvette didn’t look convinced. “What about the holographic billboard gravitating around Helios? Apparently whatever is written on it is so _obscene_ that his attorney’s received complaints from the people living on Elpis. When they tried to get Handsome Jack to remove the billboard, he _airlocked_ half of them.”

Okay, so maybe he didn’t know about that either. Whatever, just because he was Jack’s Personal Advisor didn’t mean he had control of _everything_ that happened to the man. There were different departments handling different things. Rhys was in charge of much larger accounts than Rave Shuttles and vulgar billboards.

“Come to think of it,” Vaughn chimed in, adjusting his spectacles out of habit, “some of the accountants reported him withdrawing several _billion_ from corporate accounts the other day. No one knows why.”

“I’ll tell you what it’s for.” Yvette smirked, “floating hot tub laser show. I heard the grand opening is next summer.”

“You guys are being ridiculous.” Rhys scowled. He wasn’t sure why this news was crawling under his skin, whether it was the fact that he had no idea any of this was going on, or that Jack kept him in the dark about his spending ventures, but he could feel himself bristle at the accusations. “Jack’s been known to spend his money because he _has_ money to spend, I’ll admit that. But it’s not because of some midlife crisis. I mean, c’mon, what reason does _he_ have to hit one of those anyway? He’s successful, conquered a planet, runs a multi-trillion-dollar corporation, fought large alien monsters…”

“Tone it down there, lover boy.”

“Oh, be quiet.” Rhys made in reply to Yvette’s smug ass smile. “I’m just saying, even if these rumors were true, which they aren’t, there’s got to be some other ulterior motive behind it.”

“Rhys has a point.” Vaughn chimed in, always the neutral party with taking both sides, “I don’t think a man of his stature would ever hit a point like that in his life. He’s too successful to peak…maybe…” Vaughn squinted his eyes in deep thought.

“…maybe he needs to get laid?”

That notion certainly struck a cord.

Rhys appeared thoughtful for a moment, having that comment hit closer to home with his own problems than his friends knew. As soon as the thought was there it was gone, replaced by a memory of blue laced panties.

_“Heh, yeah. Big tittied young thing from Human Resources. I find the irony in that_ _hilarious,_ _by the way.”_

“No.” Both Rhys and Yvette dismissed simultaneously, and looked at each other curiously.

“Handsome Jack can have anyone he wanted on this space station. Hell, probably anyone in this galaxy. I doubt that’s a problem for him.” Rhys scoffed.

“Chyeah,” Yvette agreed with a nod of her head, “and its apparent, too. Last Tuesday I heard people talking about Maleesa from Human Resources. Poor girl was seen running out of the CEO’s office, _naked_ , holding her clothes and sobbing all the way to the elevator. She hasn’t spoken about it sense.”

_Wait. That was when…_

“Blue laced panties.” Rhys whispered to himself, sadly not quiet enough as the comment spurred odd glances from his friends.

“Nothing, nothing. Just thinking out loud.”

“Whatever.” Vaughn snorted haughtily, bringing his coffee up to his lips again. “Maleesa’s kind of a loose girl, anyway. Serves her right.”

 _That_ comment certainly earned the accountant his own assortment of odd glances, to which the accountant merely returned with a nonchalant shrug. “What? I hear things too, ya know. Accountants aren’t all a bunch of introverted nerds. There’s grapevines all over this space station.”

“My friends are weird.” Yvette groaned with a theatrical wave of her hand.

“Speak for yourself.” Both Vaughn and Rhys retorted.

There was a moment of silence between the three before the small table of friends erupted in fits of laughter. Rhys hugged his sides when the fits of chuckles became almost too painful to bare. He had to admit, throughout all of the stress of everyday life working at Hyperion, not to mention other personal stressors currently happening in his life, the hour break he got with his friends in the Hub of Heroism definitely made up for it all. It was therapeutic in a way, something he’d grown to need over the years working on the space station. Running off of three hours of sleep and only half way through the day, he couldn’t argue that the time spent with his friends were making him feel better.

Until someone happened to run into the back of his chair, a sharp elbow ramming into the space between his shoulder blades, forcing a yelp from Rhys’ mouth as he was thrown forward onto the table. His hands tried in vain to catch himself against table, but knocked over his untouched coffee in the process, sending hot liquid all over the table and all over the young man’s lap.

All sounds of laughter deteriorated into startled gasps. Yvette and Vaughn both watched on with wide eyes as Rhys cursed loudly when the coffee burned his skin through his suit. He stumbled up and out of his seat, wiping the liquid from his already spoiled suit.

“Woops. Sorry bout it, Bro.”

 _Sorry bout it, Bro??_ Rhys whirled on the smug voice behind him, nerves frazzled by both the unpleasant burning sensation on his crotch and the completely unapologetic and barely restrained humor in the tone of the new person’s voice.

However, once he turned around to address whoever had the nerve to ram into him, his tempered words melted back down his throat at who he was looking at.

Gelled back dirty blond hair, broad shoulders, high cheek bones _and_ a strong jaw on a symmetrical face. Dressed in only a white button up and beige slacks, the casual dress attire fit the man’s form just tight enough to accentuate the curvature of well-toned muscles. His sleeves were bunched up to his biceps, the top two buttons of his shirt undone just below his collarbone. His lax posture questioned his height, however even if the man was standing tall Rhys was still a few good inches over him.

The man smiled at him, however smug and snarky, showed off his light brown eyes. He had a youthful face, his age obviously some years younger than Rhys.

As pissed off as Rhys was at that moment, he couldn’t argue that this man was definitely attractive.

“Ah…” Rhys had to catch himself. “Uh, ahem, just…just watch where you’re going, okay? The coffee wasn’t cold, ya know.”

When the younger man laughed, his voice carried like warm honey.

“Haha, my bad, Robo Man. Hope I didn’t fry your cybernetics.” Even if his voice was like warm honey, his tone was still very _asshole-ish_.

 _Robo Man? This little shit…._ As soon as Rhys opened his mouth to retort, Vaughn beat him to it.

“Why don’t you learn some respect, _intern!_ ” Wow, Vaughn could get real serious when the time called for it. It even surprised Yvette, who casted his friend a surprised sideways glance.

The blond merely snorted, giving Rhys’ best friend a disgusted up-and-down glare.

“What are you gonna do about it, short stuff?”

“Hey!” Rhys barked, puffed up his chest, and got in the younger man’s face, giving the man a snarled glare. “Don’t talk that way to my Bro, _Bro.”_

From out of nowhere, one of the other interns appeared by the blond man’s side, some no named brown haired kid a little slimmer than his intern friend. Soon after, a few more of the interns showed up, standing on both sides of their friend.

“Bro, did this guy just _Bro_ you like that?”

“I think he did, Bro.”

“Bro…”

Vaughn took this time to stand up and round the table, standing next to Rhys. “I got your back, Bro.”

“Thanks, Bro.”

Yvette let out an exasperated sigh. “For the love of…will you all just _stop_ with the Bro crap!?”

“Whatever.” The blond intern from before huffed before taking a threatening step forward. His body language clearly insinuated an unspoken challenge. Rhys tensed and readied himself. He wasn’t a fighter by any means, but if he needed to block a punch, or maybe even throw one, he knew he needed to prepare for it.

“Tch…you know something?” The intern started, giving Rhys a onceover, “I’m beginning to think that Hyperion is nothing but a bunch of weak ass nerds. I mean,” he chuckled, and it nearly set Rhys off, “all the stories I heard about this place sounded so badass, but you guys,” he pointed to both Rhys and Vaughn, “ _really_ crush my inspirations.”

“Not bad on the eyes, though.” The blond suddenly whispered to Rhys in the close proximity they were in, making sure none of his friends or even Vaughn heard it. Like it was only meant for him. And Rhys, not expecting that comment whatsoever, blanched openly at the statement.

So caught up in the tumult around them, no one had noticed the hard stomps of the new figure approaching the two groups.

“Soo…what the hell am I looking at right now? Cuz instead of, ya know, you ladies doing your jobs, all _I_ see are a bunch of squawking hens.”

_Oh shit._

And the room suddenly went cold, all the heat expelling the room like a soul exiting a freshly dead body. Lovely.

All eyes turned their attention to the new presence in the room now strolling toward them with a swagger that screamed _get the fuck out of the room before I start strangling._ There was only one man whose swag could bring about that statement.

“Holy shit, it’s _Handsome Jack._ ” Rhys could hear one of the interns gasp quietly, and it took him everything he had not to roll his eyes. He couldn’t blame them though, as he could faintly recall an old memory of his own similar reaction so many years ago when he saw Jack for the first time. But he couldn’t help the smirk that crawled across his face when the blond intern backed down almost immediately, curling in on himself and face going deathly pale.

Jack finally made his way up to the group before stopping only a few feet in front of everyone, blue and green eyes sizing up every single person in the room, his stare predatorial like a starving lion, hungry for the chance to jump someone’s ass for seemingly anything that the CEO didn’t find to his liking.

First came Rhys. Obviously.

“Pumpkin, what the hell are you doing? Stop playing dolls with these girls and get the hell back to my office.” He shot a thumb in the direction behind him. “You’re like, five minutes late. Those five minutes, cupcake, shoulda been spent hauling your scrawny ass back up there and fill my coffee mug.” _Ugh, did he have to be so demeaning about it?_

“And _you_ , Calculator.” He narrowed in on Vaughn, who recoiled back with a squeak. “Go do numbers to something. That’s why I pay you for, right? So go number the shit out of something. _Now._ ” And without a word, Vaughn hauled ass faster than anyone could blink.

“You, Hot Cocoa.” Now it was Yvette’s turn. God, Jack was on a roll today. “I don’t know what you do, but go do whatever that is. Stat, sweet cheeks.” And with that, Yvette was the next one to rush out of the Hub, albeit not as fast as Vaughn, but still fast enough to not piss Jack off.

And finally, without hesitation, he zoned in on the shivering interns who had watched on quietly, too dumb to take the opportunity that Jack was distracted and run, to instead remain frozen in place by sheer fear and awe at seeing their new boss in action. By now these men have undoubtedly already heard the many stories about just who _Handsome Jack_ was; hero, dictator, mass murderer, psychopath, trillionaire. It was basically built into, or more like mandated, in the orientation of ones first day at Hyperion.

Rhys watched with amusement as Jack squared his shoulders at the young men, running a massive hand along his already well coifed hair, eyes alight with mirth and a grin splitting his masked face.

Seeing this, Rhys shivered, and instantly tried to ignore the strange reaction.

“Hello there, kittens. You all must be the new interns.” Jack smiled, eyeing each and every one of them with a false gentility.

No one dared to answer him.

“ _Well,_ it is _quite_ the pleasure to finally see Hyperion’s new bright and shining faces!” Jack’s voice thundered through the empty room, marveling at the irony of his words upon seeing the sheer terror on their gaunt faces.

“Oh! By the way, I have a pop quiz for you ladies.” Jack chuckled. Rhys waited for it, knew exactly what was coming. Oh, did the man just love to antagonize fresh meat.

“So tell me, when I’m floatin out there in space, lungs collapsing from lack of oxygen, body bloated, and eyes bulging out of my sockets, what would be my cause of death? Is it A; suffocation. B; organ failure, or C; strangulation from my boss’s hands because I chose to run around playing some stupid _fucking_ finger gun game when I should have been decoding software for my company? Hm? Anyone?”

The only sound in the room was the whimpering of one of the no named interns in the background. That, and Rhys’ pitiful attempts to stifle his laughter.

After a moment of silence, Jack suddenly withdrew one of his pistols from behind his jacket, cocked it, and pointed it at the blond intern’s head.

“The right answer, cupcakes, was C.” And just before he unleashed a round of bullets he pointed down on the ground just short of the men’s feet, blasting holes in the ground beneath them. In a flurry of screams and flailing limbs, the interns all but bumped into each other and tripped over themselves to escape the line of fire, running in every direction for an exit before literally climbing over each other in an attempt to flee.

“Hahaha!” Jack cackled as he kept firing, “That’s right, ladies. Welcome to Hyperion! Now get the _fuck_ back to work!”

Minutes of ear ringing gunfire and terrified screams continued before the entire Hub went silent, leaving only a cackling Handsome Jack and his Personal Advisor, who watched the entire display with a knowing smirk.

Rhys waited for Jack to cool down and tuck his pistol back into the holster behind his jacket and turned to look at Rhys with an arched brow. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing.” A pause. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“You know it, baby doll.” Jack grinned and strolled up to Rhys, placing one large hand on his back and tugged him forward.

_“take a good look at yourself, **baby doll**. Unfair is keeping this tight little ass from me for so long….”_

Did he _always_ call Rhys baby doll? The man used a lot of pet names, sure, but was his dream’s _that_ specific as to remember certain ones the man said on a daily basis?

_Just great._

“It’s gonna be a good day, Rhysie. And you know why?” They reached the elevator and Jack lead the way with his hand still clamped to Rhys’ back.

Rhys rolled his eyes. “Why’s that?”

“Well…” Jack pressed the button to the Executive floor, having to punch in a specific code of numbers in order to allow them to that floor. “Let’s just say Daddy’s gotta big surprise for _you,_ kitten.” Rhys chose the wrong time to look over at Jack, realizing the man was only a few inches away from him, face turned the exact moment Rhys did, eyes shining with that same mischief it had once before, but this time for a strangely new reason that Rhys couldn’t quite figure out.

_“Scream my name, kitten. C’mon, scream for daddy.”_

Oh God. Rhys gulped at the memory that chose such a wonderful moment resurface itself in his mind, replaying the events over and over again, that voice so low and rough and _real_ , as if it had come out of Jack’s mouth currently. He felt his face heat up with a traitorous blush, and hoped to heaven that the older man didn’t notice.

Thankfully he didn’t. “Before I can tell you, though, you may need to go change your outfit. You look like you pissed yourself.”

“Wha? I-It’s coffee!”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm sorry! I really don't know where this came from! I just started writing and...there it was!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy! All comments are welcomed!


	3. He Called Me Dude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so the randomosity of this story continues, as the only thing I know thus far about this fic is that Rhys and Jack are sexually frustrated and I'm just winging it.
> 
> Hilarity ensues, while some new faces emerge. For the better? Or for the worst? We shall see!
> 
> WARNINGS: vulgarity, some sexy stuff, crude language. Viewer discretion is advised folks! Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry this took so long! I recently started a new job [which I absolutely love so far!] and has allowed me some more free time to pick up some old stories not yet forgotten! While I work on WLITW and Run Rabbit Run I wanted to give this random fic some more attention. Thank you all for being so patient, and for continuing to enjoy this fic. I hope you all very much enjoy the new chapter!

“One perk about the New U stations disbursed around Helios, is the convenience of being able to change into a new outfit with a few finger selections on a digital screen. Under-dressed for an important meeting? New U’s got your back, and dress it too. Misread the theme for a cordial party? New U’s provide a _multitude_ of different styles for all events.

“Coffee spill looks like you pissed yourself? With New U, you can replace those old soiled clothes, but New U is not liable for your damaged pride—”

“Did you just improvise that whole sales pitch?” One last firm tug fastened the royal blue tie in place, and now Rhys could tare his eyes away from inspecting his new outfit to stare inquisitively at his boss leaning lackadaisically against one side of the New U machine, having watched Rhys with utmost boredom while the young man indecisively swiped through the entire catalog, _twice_ , before finally picking an outfit close to his preference.

Jack lolled his head forward and quirked a brow at his young adviser. “When you’ve been a CEO for as long as I have, you learn to market in your sleep, pumpkin.”

Rhys rolled his eyes, but allowed himself a quick laugh as he turned and stepped off the changing platform, wiggling his long arms and legs somewhat to adjust to his new suit; black with blue and gold pinstripe. It was _okay_ , he could admit honestly. Not something he’d keep in his personal wardrobe but he wouldn’t complain when it came to convenience.

His thoughts must have shown on his face, because the next thing he knew Jack was standing next to him leaning in close with a lifted jaw and lowered eyes. The scrutiny made Rhys flinch back.

“W-What?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “…you’re one picky little string bean, y’know that?”

“I…I am not.” Rhys retorted haughtily and crossed his arms with a defiant look, “the New U needs an upgrade.” He reached down and tugged at few places of his clothes. “You see these stripes? Last season.”

His reply was a loud ridiculous snort. “Oh yeah, _that_ helps your case.” Always had to have the last word; a grand finale that he couldn’t think of a proper rebuttal for. But Rhys could be just as stubborn.

“Yeah, well you…y-your case is…it’s dumb.”

A ridiculing chuckle and a semi-sympathetic pat on the shoulder later and Jack was walking away victorious. “Don’t try too hard, sweetheart. It’s about as flattering as those _last season_ stripes.”

 _Asshole!_ Rhys’ chest puffed out with an inhale of indignation, hunching his shoulders and narrowing his eyes at Jack’s retreating swag, wanting nothing more than to remind the man that five layers of worn and faded clothing, sneakers that screamed _Soccer Dad_ , and tight jeans that compensated for an age that, if anyone found out about, it would be the last thing they ever learned before being shot out into space…tight jeans that hugged powerful thighs…cupped a taught firm ass showing every groove and muscle as he walked away—

_Cold water, Rhys! Cold water! I can’t believe I just thought that…why am I still staring! Stop staring!_

Rhys tore his eyes away just in time for Jack turn around and lift an inquisitive brow at the lack of movement from his assistant, as if Rhys was supposed to acquire telepathy and know the very second Jack wanted him to follow.

“A-hem? You stuck or something? Why is your face red?”

“It’s not!” Rhys blurted, causing the man’s other brow to arch in either humor or interest he wasn’t sure, which meant it wouldn’t be long before he was assaulted with an array of questioning by his boss, and if Jack wasn’t so damn good at interrogating it would be simple for him to slip away. He needed a subject swap and _fast_.

He glanced at his suit, then at Jack, then at his suit again. Perfect. “I-I told you the New U station needed to be updated. If I look _that_ bad, I’ll just go back and….” As he turned to march back to the changing platform he was stopped by the force of large calloused fingers gripping his chin, pulling his head back and bringing his slim body with it to stand directly in front of Jack, just at an arm’s reach.

Rhys’ first reaction was to scrunch his nose and give Jack a soured opinion that he should really wash his hands before touching someone’s face; no offense or anything, but God-know-where those hands have been or the better question of whose neck they’ve wrapped around recently, however as the young man opened his mouth the words retracted right back in his throat the moment he met Jack’s eyes.

And ever so slowly did the world fade around them.

Those blue and green eyes, the product of a beautiful genetic defect, always told Rhys what the CEO was truly thinking in any moment in time. They say people wear their heart on their sleeves. Jack showed his in his eyes, depths of pent up emotion forever teetering on an edge of…well, he didn’t exactly know that part yet.

But what he did know was that Jack’s current expression was intense, hard, concentrated, drilling into Rhys like a power-tool.

“Learn to take a joke, will ya?” When Jack spoke, the words crawled up Rhys’ spine in a way his threats or growls never could. His tone was soft, no shred of a growing temper or irritation. Coming from someone like _him_ ….

“You don’t need to change, kiddo. You look…” he paused, and Rhys didn’t miss the way Jack’s eyes traced down his body to his shoes and back up to his face with a ghost of a smirk, “…pretty damn good.”

How many times Rhys had opened and closed his mouth in vain to speak, he couldn’t say for sure. The world around them had become cloudy and irrelevant. Nothing, but the quickening beats of his heart thumping hard in his chest. He dared his tongue to poke out and outline his bottom lip from one corner to the other, and when he did it the reaction it pulled from Jack was instant.

Rhys watched the older man break his stare to follow the movement of his tongue with a fascination only found within the gleam of his eyes.

Something needed to happen; that was the only thing that made sense to Rhys, but _what_ needed to happen was a question he’d run out of time before figuring out.

“…Handsome Jack, sir…”

When the world reappeared around Rhys, he quickly realized Jack was not the only person in _extremely_ close proximity to him, and when blond hair and ghostly pale skin came into view to his left the brief spark of fright raced up to his chest faster than an electrical current. Instinctively he flinched back with a fumbled step.

Jack clenched a fist to his own chest and snarled angrily, “ _Jeezus_! Almost had a freakin heart-attack, _Blake_!”

Ah. Jeffrey Blake. Now the blond hair, ghostly pale skin, and disregard for personal space made sense. The tall [exactly five inches taller than Rhys], thin, and gauntly senior Hyperion Executive had been one of, if not _the_ longest-lasting executives to work in Jack’s administration, even dating back to Tassiter days.

A fond memory surfaced then; during Rhys’ first year at Hyperion he’d been told by a few of the senior staff that Mr. Blake was actually killed by Handsome Jack _years_ ago, and that it was his ghost Rhys was seeing walk down the hallways. It was two months and three freak-outs later that the young man realized the story was just a prank pulled on the newbies to see who could get on Mr. Blake’s bad side the fastest.

_Prank? More like sabotage…._

But what was scarier than Mr. Blake’s ghost was the fact that he was the _only_ person that could sigh in Handsome Jack’s _face_ , a sigh that was obviously meant to barely tolerate Jack’s crazy stunts and requests, and get away with it unscathed. For whatever reason, or perhaps it was simply that Jeffrey Blake was an extremely useful employee, that the CEO kept him around. _And intact_ , Rhys added thoughtfully.

Even now, as Rhys watched Jack currently in the throes of his bitching regarding how he’s going to enforce a company policy and something about sneaking up on people would result in immediate strangulation, Mr. Blake watched Jack with the same long, bland expression; eyes dull and lips pulled tight. It reminded Rhys of a parent waiting expectantly for their child’s tantrum to exhaust itself out.

In some strange way, however, Rhys couldn’t argue that the guy was a total badass in his own right.

The young brunette flashed a smile. “Hello, Jeffery.”

Without skipping a beat or batting an eyelash the older man replied, “That’s _Mister Blake_ to you, Mr. Rhys.”

He was also a total dick.

“We on the same page here, Blakey?” Jack finished, folding his arms over his chest, making the earlier similarity that much more fitting.

Mr. Blake blinked. “Yes, sir.” A pause, eyes flickering from the blushing adviser to the defensive CEO. “My apologies for the _inconvenience_. Your guest is waiting in your office, sir. You told me to inform you when he arrived.”

 _Guest?_ Rhys knit his brows, ECHO eye pulling up the calendar for a quick sweep of any appointments scheduled for the current time. When none came up, he looked to Jack quizzically, who stared at the tall blond man with an almost identical expression before the figurative lightbulb turned on in his head.

“Oh. Oh! That’s right! I did, didn’t I? Good job, Jim, remind me to give you a gold star sticker next time you’re in my office.” Jack grinned, slapping a large open hand on Mr. Blake’s back. If taken off guard, the man would most likely have been thrown to the ground.

Rhys sighed, his patience growing thin from the small pang of irritation settling in his chest, the conversation with Vaughn and Yvette earlier that day dancing in his head.

“His name’s _Jeffrey_ , Jack.”

“That’s _Mister Blake_ to _you_.” Mr. Blake sneered back at Rhys.

“I’m helping _you_ here!” Rhys retorted, folding his arms and looking between an amused Jack and a scowling old executive with a glare he was trying in vain to keep from turning into a huffy pout. “I’m the one with the calendar in my head, remember? It’d be nice to be informed of things so I can schedule them.” It wasn’t a giant deal that one little meeting slipped through the cracks. In fact, Jack did random shit all the time, consequently leading to delayed meetings and rescheduling.

But for some reason unknown to the young man, the buildup of recent discoveries had Rhys growing more and more aggravated by the minute. And to add salt to the wound, the way Jack quirked a brow and stepped immediately in front of Rhys had the younger executive debate on whether to glare harder or step back, deciding to stand still and hold his ground.

“ _Aw_ , kitten. Would it make you feel better if Daddy told you this was the surprise he was talking about? So, will you stop being so pissy?” Jack’s smile practically bled antagonistic, and a kind of genuine playfulness rarely showed to anyone.

A good, even blend of both that extinguished Rhys’ agitation only slightly, but just enough to let go of the issue for now, keeping his arms folded he looked away to focus on particularly nothing in the distance. Shrugging, he replied, “I’m not pissy.”

Jack clicked his tongue. “ _Right._ So, let’s go see the big surprise, alright?”

“As long as you stop addressing yourself to me as Daddy in front of people, fine.”

Perhaps including _in front of people_ wasn’t the best way of phrasing that sentence, and as soon as Rhys heard it from his own mouth he instantly felt the blood rush to his face. _Oh. God. That sounded so bad._ He had to stop himself from throwing a palm over his mouth; no use, the damage had been done. And upon seeing both Jack’s _and_ Mr. Blake’s eyebrows shoot up and Jack’s grin spread, there was no way he was going this live this down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The elevator ride of up to Jack’s office was, to put it lightly, the most awkward fucking five minutes of Rhys’ life. He wasn’t even sure having Mr. Blake stand between him and Jack had made it any better or worse, but _never_ did he wish so badly at that moment to get lost in the R &D department.

At one point in the ride Jack had leaned over, practically squishing Mr. Blake between them, to drawl out a, “you look like you could use a _New_ _You_ station, _Rhysie._ ”

“Shut up, Jack.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stepping out of an elevator had never felt so refreshing.

Mr. Blake had to be elsewhere, leaving Jack and Rhys to step out of the elevator to walk quietly down the hall to the double-doors of the massive office. Rhys used this time to proactively brief over Jack’s scheduled activities for the day [totally proactive and not to hide from his embarrassing stunt from earlier] reorganizing and briefing anything he had perhaps overlooked in past [not searching for any hidden or otherwise last minute or abrupt plans that Jack could have slipped by Rhys. Nope, just being proactive].

“Hey, you’ve got a fifteen-minute window of free time at four today,” Rhys called out to Jack while keeping his attention on the calendar. The tip of his tongue poked out only slightly between his pursed lips, brows knit, and metal fingertips tap-dancing the surface of his ECHOtablet cradled at his elbow, “you _could_ use that time to introduce yourself to the new Director of R &D’s forty-third sector- _oomph_!” Rhys learned at that moment just how hard Jack’s cranium was when his nose met the back of the man’s head, his shoe catching the back of the same man’s heel only to awkwardly fumble with the tablet trying desperately to slip from the young man’s arm to the floor.

Jack, seemingly unfazed by the collision, stood straight with his head tilted quizzically. His long index finger snapped up and pointed forward. “Uh…who’s this kid, and where’s my guest?”

 _Seeing as how I was not told about this, I can’t really answer that…_ was what Rhys _wanted_ to say, but quickly decided to stay quiet. He took a few steps around Jack to address the man’s question.

Sweet mother of Helios, this day _could_ get worse. Rhys scowled faster than he could blink, narrowing his eyes at the familiar face; dirty blond hair, high cheek bones, leaning lazily against the corner of Jack’s desk with a smile so innocently chipper and _sickening._

“Oh…” Rhys sighed, “it’s that _intern_ from the Hub.”

Jack leaned back slightly. “Who?”

“The…intern? At the Hub?” Rhys stared at the back of Jack’s head incredulously. “Literally forty-five minutes ago, have you already forgotten?”

 “ _Rhysie_ , do you really expect me to pay _that_ much attention to people’s faces that aren’t mine? It’s exhausting and irritating, you know this about me.”

Rhys closed his eyes, trying his best to ignore the growing ache in his temples. _I need a coffee and a shot._

A loud _snap_ of fingers opened Rhys’ eyes, and he watched as Jack strode casually to his desk and toward the intern. Though he could not see Jack’s face from where he stood could still always picture the expression on the CEO’s face; a growing smirk, head cocked back so dangerous, calculating eyes could pin you just right. He had yet to meet a person – excluding Blake – who could watch Jack approach them without even the smallest flinch or fidget. Even now, the intern’s once chipper appearance seemed to have faltered with a quiet roll of his shoulders.

“You the luggage-boy, right? Heh, of course you are. Be a sweetheart and go grab my guest for me, will ya? That’d be swell.” It started with a sickeningly fake-sweet request, like a lot of them do. It was like Jack’s way of giving you a five second head start to get the hell out before sudden doom. Either that, or the man had a kink for chasing his prey.

In Rhys’ honest opinion, it was probably both.

The intern, now wide-eyed and back a little straighter, thought it was a great idea to reply to Jack as if they were old frat-mates.

“Haha, nah dude, I’m not the luggage-boy. I'm here to—”

“Ohoho, _dude_?” Jack scoffed humorously, curling his right hand into a fist so hard his knuckles popped, his smirk stretching to a toothy grin. “You _must_ be an intern. Rhysie, check this out, the kid called me _dude._ ”

 _Oh, this guy is royally screwed._ He may have been a pompous brat, but Rhys couldn’t help but feel slightly sorry for him; rekindling memories of being a newbie himself and all the wrong things said and done at the worst possible moments.

He just hoped the intern still had his jaw intact after this.

“Hey blondie, here’s a fun fact for you; the last guy that called me dude? Go look out the window of the men’s restroom on the eleventh executive floor when you get a chance,” Jack had cleared the stairs in seconds and was now only inches away from the younger man, towering over the blond and eyes glowering down, clenched fingers twitching at his side.

“His bloated space corpse watches people take shits all day, _every_ day.”

 _And this is the guy I have erotic dreams about, folks._ Rhys tutted to himself quietly, almost glancing at the time to make sure this squabble did not exceed any planned meetings or conference calls. He flinched when a high-pitched scream filtered through the air, coming from one now trembling and very panicked intern slammed against the corner of the desk by a large hand holding a fistful of white dress shirt, his feet scrambling for purchase and barely able to grasp the floor with the tips of his shoes.

“ _Now_ , let’s try a different approach, hm? One where you do as I fucking say, or I pop your pretty head off your scrawny-ass neck. Ball’s in your court, kitten.”

Trembling hands moved to grab the one large fist cutting the circulation of the throat, but thought it best to instead raise them up and open in surrender. The damage had been done after all, no sense quickening a fate already sudden enough with touching the man he’d just insulted. Clever kid, Rhys thought absentmindedly as he watched quietly from the bottom of the stairs.

“I-I-I…” the intern croaked, “…M-Mr. Blake sent me…on the-the desk, i-is my…”

“Yo, Rhysie,” Jack shouted over his shoulder, “tell this sap how much I _hate_ stuttering.” He emphasized _hate_ with a painful jerk, pulling a frightened yelp from the younger blond man.

“He’s killed for less.” Rhys replied while picking at a rather annoying hangnail on his index finger.

Jack tilted his head and lifted his brows; an expectant gesture to the intern, a silent _did you get all that?_ and hoping the boy would not take too much longer…that or he was waiting for the _punchline before imminent death._

It was a good second of wheezed breathing before one of the blond’s hands curled to point a shaky index finger at the small stack of papers on the desk behind him. “I…signed…the offer…letter…you sent me.”

“Offer letter?” Jack curled one brow in incredulous skepticism.

“Offer letter?” Rhys curled one brow in incredulous suspicion.

Manically shaking his head, the intern replied, “y-yes! To be…to be your new administrative assistant!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Assistant Administrative Director over Entertainment and Attractions. An _intern_. _Intern!!_ ” The glasses, recently delivered and filled to the brim with promises of delicious inebriation, rattled in their dance across the surface of the table when Rhys slammed his cybernetic fist down, wincing when he hadn’t meant to be so forceful, but was not about to subside his indignant rage to show it.

“Not to mention, it just so happened to be the intern who snubbed you in the Hub…and spilled coffee on your crotch.” Yvette added [more salt to the already sodium-rich wound in Rhys’ pride], sliding her drink closer to her and away from her pissed off companion sitting across from her. With a quiet shrug she brought the glass to her painted lips and sipped quietly.

Bass drops and techno music absorbed the air around the three friends occupying the corner booth of the bar, away from prying ears or nosy co-workers and as far away from the dance floor as possible to avoid having to scream at one another for a simple conversation. Although, considering Rhys’ boisterous fury, he probably wouldn’t have thought it an annoyance.

“That’s low, bro.” Vaughn dropped his shoulders, giving his best friend a sympathetic look from across the table. “Sorry that happened to you, man. That’s rough.”

“Tell me about it,” Rhys hissed, glaring hard enough at his drink as if to make the contents boil. “Hiring a kid fresh out of college for a position that takes _years_ to become qualified for. And guess who’s going to have to train the little asshole. Me! That’s who.”

“So, wait,” Vaughn scrunched his brows as he stirred his whiskey and coke with the little black straw, “tell me again why Handsome Jack hired him? I missed that part.”

There was a reason why Rhys never mentioned _that_ part. “It…well, apparently he held an entire meeting about it with a board of educators while shitfaced…” he paused, knowing what he was about to say would come back to bite him, “…partying-sorry, _beta-testing,_ ” he corrected himself while using quotation marks with his fingers, “his…floating…hot-tub…laser show.”

The expected outcome was instant.

The glasses rattled once more as a hand slammed down on the table, but instead of all eyes on Rhys it was Yvette this time, who nearly jumped out of the booth with excitement.

Her eyes were positively alive with smugness. “ _Yes!_ Called it! Oh, I am _so_ good.” Once the high was gone, Yvette straightened her shirt and sat back down properly. “Sorry. Wrong time to gloat, huh?”

“No, no. Gloat away. I deserve it for not believing you.” Rhys sighed, dragging the palm of his real hand down his face.

Though the bar was alive with sounds, from drunken cheers to techno-rave music and dancing lasers, the booth grew quiet with individual contemplation. No one had to say it, it was in the air; Rhys had spent the majority of his twenties sweating, bleeding, crawling his way to the top of Hyperion’s blood-slicked corporate ladder to get to where he was, busting his ass day after day for a slice of the luxury that was Handsome Jack’s team of executives and close professional confidants.

All of this, just to watch someone with little to _no_ experience practically have everything graciously dropped in their lap by one inebriated and, for lack of better words, _dumbass_ decision by their ever-so fiersome leader.

_Drunken, pompous, air-headed, five-year old..._

“You’re brooding.” Yvette stated, not questioned.

“I’m not brooding.” Rhys argued back rather petulantly.

“She’s right, Rhys. You’ve got your brooding face on.” Vaughn added. “You know, that twitchy thing you do with your lips and when your chin wrinkles—nevermind. Look on the bright side,” the accountant offered with a lighter tone in attempt to sweeten his best friend’s sour mood, “this could be a good thing for you. More work for you now with training could mean less work when the guy catches on. You’ve seemed really stressed lately. This could help with that.”

_Or make it worse…._

“You said it yourself; you’re overworked. You could use the potential free time to focus on other things.” Vaughn smiled before taking a swig of his beverage, making a face and setting it down to motion his head toward Yvette. “We were thinking of taking our vacation together and going to Orios 7. I heard their beaches have _blue_ sand! Wouldn’t that be cool?”

“All the hottest people go to Orios 7, Rhys. Maybe you could _focus on other things_ , and get your mind off work.” Yvette winked and tipped her drink to toast her own comment. “When’s the last time you got laid?”

Flashes of broken memories skimmed through the young brunette’s mind, of sweaty weight holding him down, of hot grunts in his ear, and a very unsatisfied ending.

“It’s…been a good while.” He buckled, finally, and for a moment pushed aside his brooding to consider his friend’s tempting offer with growing interest. The erotic dreams he’d been having kept him from sleep, and the consistently overflowing workload had exhausted him. There wasn’t a shift that went by that Rhys _didn’t_ flutter around Jack to keep the man on a well-timed schedule….

“Okay!” he announced abruptly, turning his brain off to save him from more brooding. He grabbed his glass and held it up in the middle of the table. From the other side of the booth, Vaughn and Yvette jumped slightly at their friend’s sudden behavior.

“I’ll go to Jack first thing tomorrow morning and tell him, ‘ _have fun with your new intern, I’m gonna go fuck hot people on blue sandy beaches!’”_ It felt great to shout that out, making Rhys giddy with wondering how much better it would feel when he actually got to say it to Jack’s face.

“As long as that doesn’t get you killed, I’m game!” Vaughn laughed, raising his drink to clink with Rhys’ excitedly.

“You know I’m on board this idea ship, but aren’t you even a _little_ worried what Handsome Jack will do once you tell him?” Yvette smirked, and a second later held her glass up to complete the toast.

They downed their drinks together, and after a chain-reaction of hisses, gurgled grunts, and scrunched faces, Rhys wiped his mouth with his sleeve and shook his head.

“Nah, I’m not worried. Apparently, Jack has some old friend visiting for a few weeks; some guy he went to Programming school with years ago. Blake will cover half of my shifts too, so he probably won’t even notice I’m gone."

 

 

 

 

 

 

One delightful perk to working directly under Handsome Jack was the luxury of riding the fanciest comfiest elevator in all of Helios, _Jack’s private_ elevator, up to his office. And while doing so could enjoy the quiet of having the entire elevator to himself. Days spent crammed in middle-management elevators with enough people to literally exceed the weight-limit was enough for anyone to gamble their whole life for a promotion that didn’t involve that hellish ride.

And Rhys was overly thankful for that one perk on this particular morning, as the massive temple-crushing headache he was currently experiencing could not have dealt with something of that magnitude of annoyance in a sanely manner.

Funny enough, the headache had nothing do with how much alcohol he’d consumed the night before. His broken, restless sleep was the product of yet another smutty dream sequence.

_Calloused fingers danced along the prickled flesh of his abdomen, trailing down, down, stopping at the groove of his pelvic line. A trail of fire followed the touch, burning his skin in delicious torture._

_"You wanna be fucked on blue sand, is that right?" Lips nommed the shell of his ear, one hot wet tongue flickering the lobe teasingly. The deep chuckle sent vibrations down his long pale throat and drew out an illicit moan from his own mouth._

_The voice; deep, sultry, pouring into his ear like molasses. "Baby, I’ll fuck you on whatever color sand your heart desires. You know what? Screw the sand, I’ll fuck your tight ass on any reliable surface I can find."_

_Rhys gasped, writhed, bucked when a strong grip enveloped his swollen cock. Fingers clenched the bedsheets below him in vain to thrust his body up and into the sensation, wanting more, craving it._

_"Ahn…ah, p-please…." He tried to thrust again, but was held down by a flat palm on his bare sternum._

_"Mm.... Tell me where you want me to fuck you, sweetheart." The hand balled around his dick began to pump ever so slowly, squeezing ever so tightly._

_"H…here…I want you here…now, ugh fuck, please…just…!"_

_"Heh, that’s my good boy."_

_DING._

The elevator jolted to a stop just hard enough to rip Rhys from his recollection, leaving behind a red flush across his cheeks but was immediately forgotten when the young executive realized the oddness of someone _else_ using this elevator other than himself and Jack. Before he had time to process-and-eliminate, however, the doors opened and revealed his answer; bright brown eyes, sleeked-back wavy blond hair, and that _chirpy_ smile.

“ _Goo~d_ morning, _Mr. Rhys_.”

 _Goo~d morning, Little Shit._ Hey, he could be petty in his head if he wanted to. With a tight-lipped smile, he barely stifled a groan when he said quickly, “morning, _Bradley._ ”

When the aptly named intern, _Bradley_ , stepped into the elevator, Rhys moved to the other side in one long step, biting the inside of his cheek and keeping his narrowing stare at the buttons on the wall ahead of him. As the doors closed and the jolt of movement took them upward once more, Rhys could feel the agitation building up with each passing second he had to stand next to the younger man, who bobbed his shoulders slightly at what seemed to be a tune only playing in his head.

Without breaking his stare or turning his face, Rhys addressed the other man. “Didn’t know you had authorization to ride this elevator, _Bradley._ ”

As if jostled out of his own thoughts, the blond perked up at his name and turned his head with a bright smile. His right hand had been snug in his pocket since he boarded the elevator, but raised it out to hold up a small white rectangle for Rhys to see, glancing from the card to the older man’s face smugly.

“Got my own access card. I can ride this baby whenever I like.”

Rhys made a mental note to visit R&D’s experimental gun range before he left for Orios 7, and made _another_ mental note to grab one of Jack’s posters off the wall to use for target practice.

“Oh. That’s nice.”

Another awkward bout of silence, and Bradley bobbing to the beat of some pop song playing on some repetitive cycle in his head, and Rhys knew if he continued to chew on his bottom lip he’d possibly bite through to the other side. His eyelid twitched, left shoe tapping subconsciously on the floor. _Did this elevator always move so damn slow?_

“You seem oddly chipper for someone who had a near death experience only yesterday.” Rhys couldn’t help himself. Perhaps hanging around Yvette as often as he did had given him shit-stirring abilities he didn’t know he possessed.

The immediate reply was a breathy chuckle that caused another twitch to Rhys’ eyelid, as Bradley tipped his head back and tossed out another laugh. With his hands in his pockets he rocked back and forth on his heels. “Psh, that? I’m over it. I live day to day, bro. Can’t let the past effect the future, ya’know? I’m just stoked to be here.”

The kid may have chewed on Rhys’ nerves, but he had to admit he appreciated the answer. “Well, that’s a good way of looking—”

“—and I masturbated like _crazy_ before bed last night.”

Sometimes Rhys theorized that saliva was created for the hilarious moments when someone needed to choke at ridiculous things without the use of a beverage, because that’s exactly what he brunette did the moment he registered Bradley’s words.

“ _Echk,_ ” he coughed, “e-excuse me?”

Bradley only laughed, “haha, don’t play, if that were _you_ getting strangled by _the_ Handsome Jack, you’d have epic wank material too. I mean, I guess it was hot for you too, watching it go down and all—”

“Are you…?” Rhys finally cleared his throat, and blinked away the shock. “You’re serious?”

“C’ _mon_ , we’re co-workers! You can spill to me, bro. What was it like your first time getting choked by him? I bet you _choked_ it all night. Hah, get it? You look like the type.”

_What is wrong with his guy?_

“Are you implying that our boss gets me off?” Technically, Bradley didn’t imply anything to that severity or even accuse him of anything, and realizing that the instant he said that Rhys leaned back and straightened himself to avoid any unwanted suspicion.

“He doesn’t?” The blonde’s surprised expression was enough to gnaw at Rhys’ nerves, forcing another high pitched defensive retort.

“No! I mean, ugh no, jeezus, this is a _professional environment_ , _Bradley_. You’re just an intern. There’s more to a corporate job than sleeping your way to the top. That should be your first lesson.” He was _partially_ right; while a recent Hyperion survey discovered that a whopping _fifty-five_ percent of employees were engaged in some type of sexual activity with one another, there was no way he’d let the man next to him get that idea in his head. No way in _hell_.

He distantly wondered why the topic of conversation made his hair stand on edge, but whatever the reason, Rhys didn’t enjoy the reaction it had on him.

“So~, wait…you’ve never…?” Bradley leaned in, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

Unknowingly, Rhys leaned back from the advancement, narrowing his eyes as he glared back at the younger man. “Never _what_?”

“You've never fucked Handsome Jack?”

Choking on your own saliva  _twice_ in one day was _too many_ times in Rhys’ book.

“No! God, what is wrong—!”

“Oh! You’re full hetero, huh?” Bradley then backed away, hands popping out of his pockets to wave as if to try and dissipate the conversation. “Yikes, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything, bro! All you had to do was say something. I totally dig it, man.”

_Is this really happening right now?_

Rhys bowed up at that moment, taking one step to stand chest to chest with the younger man and keeping his deeply agitated scowl against the blonde’s surprised expression.

“My sexuality is none of your business.” He let out a snarl that would have made Jack proud if he was here watching. “And here’s a piece of advice for you, _intern_ ; if you think you’re going to waltz in here with _that_ attitude, I might as well direct you out an airlock, because _that’s_ where you’re headed if you don’t throw out this ludicrous idea about fucking our boss for corporate gain.”

Okay, he did _not_ mean for that to happen, but somehow along this awkward ride up to Jack’s office the receptors between Rhys’ mouth and brain fried, allowing Rhys to singlehandedly threaten his new co-worker’s life, on his second day on the job, for nothing more than inquiring if Jack turned him on.

Something was wrong.

And it was only getting worse.

The exact moment when Bradley came inches from his face went unnoticed, as when Rhys blinked he suddenly found the man smirking in his face, brown eyes sparkling with mischief. He tilted his head slowly to the side and sized up Rhys with an angled look. His brow arched delicately into a curious expression.

For a heavy moment neither man said anything, letting their stares battle instead. Perhaps there was no need to vocalize it, and perhaps their quiet exchange said it all.

Bradley blinked slowly, and spoke through his smirk. “Challenge accepted, _sir._ ” His hand flew out to the side and smashed a random button without breaking eye-contact, and the elevator jerked with the abruptness of the stop. The _ding_ sound could be heard, followed by the quiet _whoosh_ of the double doors opening.

“Piece of advice for you, _Mr. Rhys_ ; I don’t back down from challenges. Tch, how do you think I got this job at my age, huh? I’ll blow _him_ , just like I blew the _board of education_. Stand back, _bro_ , and watch yourself get bested by someone younger _and_ better than you.”

In a single fluid motion Bradley stepped off the elevator and down the hallway of the unnamed floor he chose, throwing up two fingers in a sign of farewell knowing damn well the doors had yet to close, leaving Rhys to watch the entire display quietly.

The doors finally closed, the elevator shifting again as it continued it’s course, and Rhys stood in the same spot; directly in the middle of the small square space, lips a thin line, eyes glued to the doors as if forever watching the challenge in those brown irises.

Rhys raised his cybernetic arm up, opening his hand to pull up the holographic desktop. The ECHO eye searched through his contact list, and before he knew what he was doing he was three rings in.

“… _Rhys?”_ Vaughn’s face popped up suddenly, then smiled brightly at his friend. “Hey man, what’s up—”

“Cancel my ticket to Orios 7.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Rhys -_-' can't catch a break. 
> 
> I also want to point out that Bradley is freshly 23yrs old, which in my opinion is quite young to get a job like that, so that's kind of why Rhys (who will be around 28yrs old in this story) is a little salty about the whole situation. We can all thank Jack for that ;)
> 
> I wonder who Jack's old friend/guest is? Or better, what impact will this new person have on Rhys and Jack's relationship. Hmm... stay tuned for more!
> 
> All comments are welcome! Thank you again for reading!


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